Camilla doesn't remember ever having been in this room before. By dream logic it isn't remarkable, this amalgam of mad-scientist laboratory and bar (neither of which are anything little Camilla's seen in person before, of course; she's working off memories of television). All the same, it doesn't look like a place she wants to be. "Cards," she tells him, but she's not looking at him, still glancing around the room, and she holds tight to his hand. "Charles, where are we?"